The city of Mirithal was dying.
Golden towers that once glowed with divine light now twisted and warped into grotesque shapes, bending as if in agony. The very sky pulsed red, its color bleeding through cracks in the fabric of reality.Each heartbeat of the world seemed to echo with Aren's defiance.
Lyra dragged him through the collapsing streets. The ground split beneath them, revealing glowing veins of web-like energy — the threads of Vows snapping, one by one.Screams echoed through the air. Not human screams — echoes of broken promises. The sound was hollow, like whispers clawing at the edges of existence.
"Aren!" Lyra shouted, her voice breaking through the chaos. "The Web — it's reacting to you!"
He staggered to his feet, his vision blurring as the Seal on his hand burned brighter than ever. It pulsed like a heartbeat, sending red cracks through the ground wherever he stepped.
"I didn't mean to—" he gasped. "I just—"
"You broke the Vowbinding! The Priestess's control is unraveling — the whole city is falling into the Threadvoid!"
They turned a corner — and froze.
The streets ahead were no longer streets. They were ribbons of light, bending in impossible directions, leading nowhere. Houses folded in on themselves like paper, the people within dissolving into gold dust.
The Web was consuming its own lies.
Lyra's hand trembled as she raised her flute. "If I can stabilize the threads, maybe—"
But the ground exploded beneath them, and something vast surged upward — a Threadbeast, a creature woven from the remains of broken oaths. It towered above them, a mass of shimmering cords and screaming faces.
Its voice was every voice that had ever lied.
"Oathbreaker… you promised them safety."
Aren gritted his teeth and drew his blade. "I promised myself freedom."
He lunged forward, slashing through the creature's tendrils. Each strike tore threads apart, but for every one he cut, two more grew back. The Web fed on contradiction.
Lyra's flute began to glow, emitting a resonance that bent the air. The creature howled as the melody tangled its cords, forcing it back — but Lyra's nose bled from the strain.
"I can't hold it!" she cried.
"Then don't!" Aren shouted, his blade igniting in crimson light. "Let it come to me!"
He charged straight into the creature's core. The Seal on his hand flared, and the world went silent — as if the Web itself was holding its breath.
"Vowburn—"
His word was cut off by a surge of power. The Seal shattered into fragments of light, and for an instant, everything froze.The Threadbeast exploded into dust.
But the silence that followed wasn't peace — it was emptiness.
The streets were gone. The city was gone.Aren and Lyra stood in an endless expanse of broken threads floating in a crimson void.
Lyra fell to her knees, trembling. "We're inside it… the Web itself."
Aren looked around. The threads stretched into infinity, each one humming faintly — memories, promises, lives. He could feel them pulsing in his chest.
One thread floated closer to him. When he touched it, a vision flooded his mind: a little girl swearing to return home, a mother vowing to wait. The girl never returned. The thread snapped — and her mother's soul was absorbed into the Web.
Aren's stomach turned. "All this… it's feeding on failure."
Lyra looked up, pale. "A system that punishes imperfection and thrives on it."
The voice that answered came from nowhere — and everywhere.
"You've finally seen the truth, Aren Voss."
They turned.The Priestess of Gold stood on a thread bridge that materialized out of the void. Her body was fractured, golden light leaking through cracks in her skin, but her smile remained unchanged.
"You think you freed them?" she asked softly. "You only stripped away their illusions. Now they'll drown in the truth."
Aren stepped forward, fury burning in his eyes. "You call this truth? This is your design!"
She shook her head. "No. This is yours."
The Web pulsed around them, reacting to her words. A faint silhouette appeared behind her — the Witness, towering and silent, its presence bending the void.
"You were chosen because you lied to yourself," the Priestess continued. "You promised to protect, yet you wanted revenge. You swore to save, yet you sought control."
Aren clenched his fists. "Enough!"
"No," she said. "Not until you understand — every vow begins with a lie. And every lie… begins with you."
The Witness raised its hand. The threads around Aren coiled, binding his arms and legs. He struggled, but each movement made the bindings tighten, glowing brighter.
Lyra screamed, running toward him — but the Priestess gestured, and a wall of threads rose, separating them.
"Stop!" Lyra's voice cracked. "He's not your puppet!"
The Priestess's gaze softened, just for an instant. "No. He's my reflection."
She placed her hand on the Witness's chest, and for the first time, the massive figure's eyes flickered — red, then gold.
"Join me, Aren. Together we'll rebuild the Web. A new world, where vows never break — because no one will ever be allowed to lie again."
Aren closed his eyes.The bindings burned into his skin, pain flooding every nerve.He remembered his first vow — whispered to a dying friend beneath a burning sky: "I'll save you, no matter the cost."
He had failed.But failure… was human.
When he opened his eyes, they were blazing crimson.
"Then I'll be the last liar," he said. "And I'll burn your perfect world to ash."
The threads snapped.
The void exploded into red light as Aren broke free, unleashing a shockwave that tore through the Web. The Witness reeled, its form splintering.The Priestess screamed — not in fear, but in awe.
"You've done it, Oathbreaker… you've awakened the Crimson Thread."
Reality shattered.